Chapter 14 - Lara
I stand under the running water for a long time.
I don’t mean to stay so long. I meant to get in and out, and back into my clothes before I had too long to think about everything.
But my body had other ideas. I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before—I’m sore in places I didn’t know could feel anything, an ache low in my stomach that isn’t painful, but I feel its presence.
My neck and collarbone are littered with evidence of his attention, and the hot water is the only thing that soothes my aching muscles.
I let the water run down over my head and down my back, and try very hard not to think too deeply.
I try not to think about the way he picked me up in the kitchen, the way he carried me through the cabin like I weighed nothing.
I try not to think of him on his knees between my thighs, telling me to look at him.
I try not to think about the way he felt pushing inside me, or the desperate noises I made that should embarrass me, but don’t.
I try not to think about how he came inside me after I begged him to.
I think about it all anyway, replaying the scenes over and over.
When I finally turn the water off and step out, my skin has more color than it has in weeks, and when I look in the mirror, I can’t deny that the woman staring back looks as though she’s been well fucked. There’s no other way to put it.
I dry myself off and pull on the clean sweats I dried overnight, along with a clean t-shirt that I knot at the side as it’s so oversized.
I ignore the way my hands are shaking a little as I finger-comb my damp hair before I take a long breath and check my reflection one last time, unsure what I’m actually looking for.
I find Wilf in the kitchen. He’s got his back to me as I walk in.
He’s at the counter holding a cup of coffee and turns as I walk in.
He has a look on his face that suggests he’s been bracing for this moment, but he tries to hide it, and immediately, I’m struck by the thought he might regret what we did.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply, suddenly unsure about how this is going to play out.
He pours me a coffee and sets it down on the island.
He doesn’t reach for me; he doesn’t touch me.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, really.
He doesn’t owe me anything, and I’m not so na?ve that I don’t know men just like having sex.
Last night probably didn’t mean anything to him at all, but my body stupidly seems to miss the contact it got used to last night.
I take the coffee and sit down at the stool, deliberately taking a long sip so I can avoid looking directly at him.
“You alright?” He asks.
“Sore,” I tell him before I think better of it, “a bit sore, but fine. I mean, it was fine.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and the look on his face seems genuine.
“Don’t be,” I reply, a little too quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It really was fine.”
He laughs. “Lara, it was a lot more than fine,” he tells me.
I look at him and don’t know what to say to that.
He’s looking at me in that level-headed way he has, but with the flicker of a smile on his lips, which disappears almost as soon as I notice it.
His eyes shift to the side as a flurry of messages comes through on his phone, and I notice the way he checks it quickly before tossing it back on the counter.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“What’s what?” He replies absentmindedly.
“The messages? Has something happened?” I ask again, more convinced now that he’s not telling me something again.
He puts the mug down and turns back, laying his palms flat on the counter, pausing for a moment but not looking away again.
“The rogues were on the south wards last night,” he tells me. “At least four of them. They walked the perimeter line and drained the third sensor. They didn’t push through; they just came to look. I found the tracks about an hour or so ago.”
I grip the mug tighter as I process the information.
“They’re close,” I say, aware my fingers are trembling slightly, and it’s annoying me.
“They are,” he confirms. “They know where you are; they worked out that you didn’t get off the mountain, and they’ve obviously tracked you here.
The wards have held up reasonably well, but they’re not really designed for this.
I’ve activated the backups so that should confuse them; they obscure the paths, so they should struggle to find their way back. ”
I put the mug down and keep my hands below the table so he can’t see them shake. He seems so blasé. I don’t want to look like a fragile human.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer immediately, which should probably tell me exactly what I need to know.
“I called Nick and Connor when I got back in,” he says, after a moment. “I told them. All of it, well, all that I understand anyway. The road is nearly clear; they’re sending a truck up for us as soon as possible. Could be a few hours, more likely tomorrow.”
“You told them about us?” I ask and then blush furiously.
He chuckles, “Not that bit.”
I can’t bring myself to even feel relieved at that as I process what he’s telling me. “I told you I’m not going to your town, you said…”
“Lara,” he cuts in, his voice dropping lower. “The rogues are on the wards. They want you enough to come onto our territory in numbers. The cabin won’t hold a full-scale ambush, and I can’t keep you safe here. Silven Haven can protect you. We can figure out what to do next. That’s the right call.”
“That’s your call, you mean.” I retort.
“It’s the right call,” he repeats.
I stand up, shoving the chair backward, and it scrapes along the floor, but I don’t care.
“I’m not going to a town full of shifters,” I tell him, my voice going higher than I’d like.
“I’ve told you that, and I haven’t changed my mind.
I want to go home. I can go via the city first to disguise my trail.
I’ve got a plan. And that plan is to live with humans, not a town full of shifters. I’m not going.”
“Lara…” he starts.
“I’m not going,” I repeat, sharper.
He falls silent, but I know he’s just thinking. I can see the calculating look in his eyes. Ultimately, I think he’s trying to decide if my opinion matters at all.
“You could come with me instead?” I suggest, the thought coming out of nowhere. “You could come to the city with me and then back to my home. You’ll see it’s safe.”
As soon as the words are out, I realize how it sounds, like I’m asking him to stay with me.
I’m standing here after coming apart in his arms several times last night, asking him to come, what?
Stay with me? Play house? I want to groan with embarrassment, but I also find myself wanting him to say yes, which is the most confusing part of all.
“I can’t do that, Lara,” he says quietly, “the rogues are on our doorstep, and I have a duty to help my pack. And you.”
“If you wanted to help me, you wouldn’t make me go to your shifter town when I don’t want to go.” I snap.
“Lara,” he growls, “I’m not going to abandon my pack, and I’m not going to abandon you to those rogues, who would track you down even if you go by the city. That’s not a plan.”
I roll my eyes; I can’t help it. “Wilf, I’ve been evading wolves all my life. I can handle myself.”
“Like you were handling things when I found you?” He huffs.
I take a step back from the island, my next retort dying on my lips because I know he’s got me there, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
“If I ask you to let me go, or drop me at the closest human town, will you?” I ask.
He tosses his mug in the sink and begins running the water.
“No,” he tells me, his voice tight.
“So, I’m a prisoner,” I reply flatly.
“You’re not a prisoner,” he says. “You’re a woman the rogues want, and you’ve been in the safest place in this cabin.
From tomorrow, when the wards begin to fail, the safest place will be Silven Haven.
That’s the truth, and I’m not going to pretty it up for you and just tell you what you want to hear. ”
“You’re not going to pretty it up,” I repeat. “And that’s supposed to be the final word, is it?”
“Lara,” He says.
“No, don’t Lara me,” I snap. “You just called them up and decided all this. If you can decide when I leave and where I go, what you tell your pack, and whether or not I can go home, then I’m a prisoner.”
He sighs and runs a hand over his stubble.
“You’re right about one thing,” he says.
“I should have told you about the rogues first and then made the call. But I would still have made that call. The rogues are on the wards, and you’ll be safe in Silvercreek for now.
I’m not letting you just walk out there and face them because you’ve got a fixed idea about my pack when you haven’t even met them yet. ”
“I have fixed ideas about shifters for good reason,” I reply quietly.
“I know,” he says, “But I’ve done nothing but help you since I pulled you out of the hut.
I’ve been honest about my pack and who we are.
I’ve been more open and honest with you in the last few days than anyone in years.
And I’m taking you off this mountain tomorrow because that’s the best decision.
If you go out on your own, you’ll die, and I’m not having that happen on my watch.
I look at him and see the hard set in his eyes, and I find myself struggling even more with the way I dropped my guard with him last night.
“So that’s it then,” I say, my voice steady despite how scared I feel at the thought of going to Silvercreek.
“You’ve decided: the truck is coming tomorrow, I’m going to your town.
I’ll have to talk to your pack about my voice, just like the rogues obviously wanted to know all about it.
Maybe they’ll want to use me, too, after all, you have a witch, as well.
It sounds like the only thing you haven’t told them is what we did last night. ”
“That isn’t fair, Lara,” he says, his voice rough.
“Isn’t it?” I fire back, “Which bit have I got wrong?”
“I didn’t tell them about last night because…” He starts, but I cut him off.
“Because you’re ashamed to sleep with a human? Or a prisoner?” I ask, knowing that I’m goading him, but feeling so angry I don’t care.
“That’s bullshit,” he snaps. “I didn’t tell them because it was private. That’s between you and me, no one else.”
I struggle to reply, feeling waves of confusion as my anger ebbs and flows. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, the green has gone darker now.
“It doesn’t feel like bullshit to me,” I say quietly.
“Lara,” he starts again, but I push the chair back, silencing him. This time, the sound is satisfyingly loud, and I walk away, leaving the coffee on the island. I cross the room without looking at him. My ankle hurts, but I’m not going to let him see it.
He doesn’t move from the counter and doesn’t follow me, but I feel him watching my every movement.
I don’t turn around. I walk into the bedroom and close the door behind me.
I bolt the door behind me, even though I know it’s pointless, and lean my head against the door.
I don’t cry, but that’s only out of stubbornness.
The cabin feels quieter now, too quiet. I cannot hear him moving around and wonder if he’s gone back out.
But if he had, I’d have heard the security system resetting loudly because he’d never risk leaving me alone after that conversation.
I know for certain he’s not going to follow me; he’s clearly made his decision.
The morning draws on, and the grey light at the window is decidedly less grey, a sure sign the snow is going to thaw. I sit on the bed for far longer than I intended before going to wash my face again just to try and clear my mind.
He doesn’t knock, and I’m definitely not going back out there.